Imperfect kind of Perfection
by purplebowties
Summary: Because that's what they are, incredibly imperfect people. POST-finale, before the flash-forward A portray of Chuck and Blair's first year of marriage.


**An Imperfect kind of Perfection:**

"_Don't you know that you're all my life to me?_

_But I know no peace, and I can't give it to you; all of myself, and love- yes._

_I can't think of you and myself apart. You and I are one to me._

_And I see no possibility before us of peace- either for me, or for you._

_I see a possibility of despair, of wretchedness... Or else I see a possibility of happiness_

_- and what a happiness!"_***1**

* * *

There's a urgent, impatient note in the way Blair whispers "_Meet me upstairs, Bass_", something that only he can hear, because her murmur is soft, delicate and it's only for him. She's clearly trying to seduce him and, at this point, he has no reason to resist anymore. It doesn't matter that he's exhausted and still incredibly dazed by the furious mix of emotions he lived on his skin during the last 24 hours. Because when he stares at her, he can't help but feeling like a seventeen year-old boy all over again, so full of energy and greedy for her hidden lust. So he briefly takes a bite of her mouth, her lips gently trapped between his (she tastes like Champagne and strawberries, just like the first time he kissed her, because, ironically, that's what Lily bought for their little wedding reception), and then answers with an oblique, promiscuous smile: she knows what it means and, as she climbs the stairs, she still keeps her gaze on him, she never ceases trying to make him hers, even though he is already. Officially.

Ten seconds later he excuses himself. After twenty seconds he's climbing the stairs too, and he giggles as he hears Nate saying "_The bride and the groom are nowhere to be found_" and Jack answering "_Are you already missing your boyfriend?_" . But then the voices are all gone and there's only him in front of Blair's room's door.

He slowly caresses the cream wood with his fingers, and smirks as he thinks about the sweet pleasure he will feel when running his palms on Blair's skin. It's been so long since the last time he really touched her, but he can remember every single spot of her body anyway, as if her naked figure was a picture printed in his brain.

But still he makes her wait. It's their thing: there will always be an excruciating pleasure in waiting for them***2**, because they both know that this game will always end up with their victory. They won't lose, not now that they're together. For good. So he spends ten minutes outside the door, smiling and imagining her getting ready for him, waiting for him on her bed, with that proud glow lighting up her face, full of the security given by the certainness that he will come.

He doesn't knock (and she doesn't expect anything different from him, because he's a maniacally theatrical person and, most of all, he has never asked the permission to enter –in her _room_, or in her _life_), hoping to catch a flash of excited surprise in her gaze, but when he finally opens the door, the first look he gets of her leaves him breathless and his hand is shaking when he leans it on her bedroom's door handle, to close the world out of their world.

And there she is, in the middle of the darkness, in the middle of her bed, all surrounded by dancing candles, her light blue wedding dress laying on the floor, dark brown hair falling over her skin. She's waiting for him, a malicious, seductive soul who makes him lose any chance of control with her black lingerie and that provocative smile. He suddenly feels so physically weak, all shaking from the emotion and with his wobbly legs: she could kill him with a single touch, she could send him to hell in a matter of seconds but he isn't scared by that vulnerability. He needs that. Actually, he wants that.

He remembers being a lost boy on that bed, a crying, weak mess, and her fingers running through his hair, wiping away his tears, whispering that he was going to be ok. He remembers her being a white vision in his deep darkness, trying to bring a blaze of light in his life.

They don't look for light anymore. Now, somehow, the only light they need is their love.

"I was waiting for you, Mr. Bass" she says and Chuck lightly touches the wedding band on his left annular with his right index finger and holds his breath again. They won't run away anymore. They can't run away anymore and, most of all, they don't feel the need to.

"If you thought that was long, you have no idea what you're in for"***3** he murmurs as he lowers down to kiss her and lets his jacket fall on the floor.

She smiles, because he's quoting himself –_theatrical_, again-, but this time she isn't afraid and there's no sign of hesitation in her gaze. "Believe me, I know".

Actually, he still can't believe that they're married for real. It still feels like a dream and even if Blair's skin is tensed under his hands, even if she's hungry of his kisses and her savage fingers are already tearing off his bowtie and his shirt's buttons, everything is still so blurry.

So, when her legs slowly trap his hips and he places his mouth right under her ear, on the top of the neck, he can't help but whispering her "_You're mine, Waldorf_", intense and possessive, just to be sure that she really is. Just to be sure that they've really made it.

Once, she was afraid of being his, and even if her heart told her that she couldn't stop him from owning her soul, she desperately tried not to be. Now being his is all she wants and he can see that from the way she wildly kisses him and grabs his hair to silence him.

"Call me Mrs. Bass" she says. It's not a request, it's an order, and he can't help but grin at her despotic tone, because that's his Blair, that's the woman he loves: she was born to rule, to be a queen. His queen, he thinks, and the awareness of the power she has over him leaves him breathless once again, while he can feel her nails stretching his back.

Everything suddenly becomes so real that, when he squeezes her breasts and gets inside of her all he can say, in the middle of their pleasure, is: "I love you, Mrs. Bass".

She's his wife and now, for the first time in his life, he feels like their story couldn't have ended differently.

* * *

They leave for their honeymoon the next day and Blair says something about how glad she is that they're going to avoid Bart's funeral, while she sits on her bed with her legs crossed, wearing her typical "_traveling outfit_" (blue navy dress with white borders and a big wide-brimmed hat) and ordering Dorota what to pack.

She elegantly sips the tea he brought her in bed, together with a piece of her favorite cake (he asked Dorota to bake it this time, but he will learn how to do it by himself, he really will, just to surprise her) tons of pistachio macaroons and a dark red rose on the tray. She casually looks at him, as if she's trying to study him: he's standing, his arm nonchalantly leaned against the doorpost, his morning scotch in his hand and a navy suit with golden buttons on.

He's gazing at her, perfectly aware of what she's doing. But this is their first day as a married couple and, as long as he can, he doesn't want to think about anything that isn't Blair, so he smartly avoids her appositely cold statement about Bart (she clearly made that comment to see his reaction) and instead he says: "Blair, you don't need to pack, I'm going to buy you every dress you want" and then he smirks, waiting for her to come to kiss him.

"And why is that, Mr. Bass?" she stands up, while Dorota silently disappears in the dressing room. "What did I do to deserve all this kindness?" she asks with provocative tone, walking slowly towards him with her red stilettos tapping on the floor.

And then her lips are pressed against his once again and her tongue quickly licks away a drop of scotch on the corner of his mouth.

"You're my wife, Blair" he says, his eyes sparkling at the sound of that word –wife, she's his wife "Besides, buying you dresses will be just as fun as undressing you".

Their navy outfits end up on the bathroom floor two minutes and twenty-three seconds later and they both laugh as they hear Dorota complaining because "Dorota can't put in suitcase Miss. Blair's avocado cream and Mr. Chuck's aftershave lotion if bathroom door is locked" and then more polish words and more things about packing.

Anyway, clothes are the last thing they need, because they spend three quarters of their honeymoon completely naked, turning around in silk sheets and making love as many times as their bodies can handle, while their privet jet flies over Europe, and Blair doesn't even complain about not visiting the Louvre in Paris -not properly at least, because they end up having a quickie in one of the museum's bathrooms ("_This is so not classy, Ba_ss" Blair tries to protest, but Chuck whispers in her hear that she'll "_definitely smile like the Mona Lisa_***4**_ after this_" and so she gives up, letting him push her back on the wall).

"I hope nobody saw us" she jokes about that later, at dinner, because she actually hopes someone did and she can tell by Chuck's smirk that he knows what she's thinking.

She's beautiful, he reflects, while he takes a sip of his white wine and looks at how her black and golden dress gives her that special glow: she emanates class and power and satisfaction. He has never seen her so clearly happy. He'd give her the world if the world wasn't already their property.

But he's a Bass and he needs to "_go the whole ho_g" she says amused, when he rents an entire ball room in Moscow and buys nineteenth-century costume made dresses just to have their Anna Karenina and Vronskij***5** role play, on New Year's Eve.

"You're so vain, Chuck" she whispers in his ear and her red lipstick leaves a stain on his shirt when she rapidly turns her head to avoid a kiss, just to tease him a little.

"Something tells me that my vanity turns you on" he answers, while he makes her spin at the sound of The _Second Waltz_***6** to take total control of her body – he won't let her lead the game this time. All of a sudden, she's hopelessly falling in his arms, her hands clung to his black silky jacked and their waltz becomes a tangles of bodies, only separated by the fabric of their clothes.

They're still spinning, moving in large circles, but Blair isn't listening to the music anymore, she just follows Chuck, completely inebriated by his cologne.

The _casquet_***7** comes so unexpected that she closes her eyes when she feels that she's falling to the ground and, when she opens them again, all she can see is his satisfied smirk.

"_Casquet_ is a tango step, Bass" she weakly whispers, because she has her heart on her mouth and her irregular breath is making her chest lift and lower swiftly.

"I know. But looking at you I felt like breaking the rule" he answers, before crouches down to kiss her and, even if she can't think clearly anymore with Chuck's tongue in her mouth, she can't help but smiling a little behind his lips.

* * *

Coming back in New York after their two month long honeymoon means coming back to real life, to face what they left behind. Blair is aware of the fact that she's more ready than him to take that step, so she squeezes his hand when their privet jet lands on their reign and a crowd of paparazzi and reporters follows them on their way to the limo. Behind the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she rises her gaze up on him and she bites her lip, trying not to show a concerned expression. Chuck has an arrogant smirk printed on his face when they ask him if he's ready to take over the Bass Industries and there's a blaze of proudness in his look while he says that he was born to be in charge of the company, but, still, Blair can feel his unnaturally cold fingers shaking a little while they ask him about his father. They're looking for a sign of weakness, something that would allow them to keep on speculating on Bart's death, and he does his best not to look guilty or insecure, but Blair could tell a totally different story.

She could tell the story of his sleepless nights and of his nocturnal walks, when he silently moves around the suite in his silky purple night-gown. Blair spies on him, hidden in the dark, memorizing the sound of his steps. She knows that he knows about how she silently watches over him, but she doesn't say anything and neither does he: he still brings her breakfast in bed every morning and he still gives her the same amount of attentions, the same consideration and exclusive tenderness.

It's just a new way of breaking down, more discrete, more measured: there aren't any excesses of rage, he's not hiding in a room, refusing any contact with the world. His breaking down is made of small gestures, of more glasses of scotch than usual, of prolonged, gloomy silences and dark eyes and all these details are so well disguised that Blair wouldn't notice them if it wasn't for their love, so much visceral that lets her feel his sorrow as if it was her own pain.

But the night before his first day as CEO of his company all of his inner torturing becomes so clear that when she finds him, standing on the Empire's roof with a hand placed on the edge and his glance fixed on the horizon, she doesn't even have to ask him what he's doing there or how he is.

She already knows. So she slowly walks towards him and puts her arm around his waist and he glances down when he feels her body touching his. He sighs, but doesn't say anything.

"I was looking for you" she says, as she places a kiss on his neck. "I figured you would have come here, soon or later".

"You know me well" he whispers, instinctively reaching her hand with his fingers. She smiles shyly, as he tenderly caresses her wedding band, as if he was scared not to find it, as if he was still surprised by the life they're building, by the promise they made to each other with those rings.

"You're my husband, Chuck" she answers as he turns to look at her in the eyes. All of sudden, meeting his glance, she feels a shiver running down her spine, still amazed by those obscure magnetic eyes, by their mystery and depth, by that insuppressible spark of pain and darkness. She knows it's something that neither she can fix, but she also knows that she's the only one allowed to help him to live with that, the only one to love even that sufferance, that hole of emptiness and sorrow. Those eyes are still the best thing she's ever seen or known.

"Do you really think I deserve all of this, Blair?" he asks her after a while. "This empire. This life. _You_".

He puts her at the end of the list, just because she's the most important thing and his voice breaks in a tremble when he finishes the sentence, afraid to look into her eyes and to find a no for an answer. So he slowly steps back from the edge, looking for something to place his eyes on, because he can't look down the roof. He knows what he'd see and he doesn't want to deal with that, he doesn't want to relive that memory, but he also can't run away from it. It's inevitable and it's hunting him like a ghost.

He's about to panic when her hand reaches his hand again. He's sweating.

"Chuck" she calls him, trying to make him focus on her. "Chuck, look at me".

"I can't" he murmurs. "I can't, Blair".

Tears start falling down her checks when his voice cracks once again and all she can do is getting closer and tightening her fingers between his even more. When their foreheads touch, she can feel his cold, sweaty skin against hers and she knows she'd do anything to heal him now, because his eyes are still closed and he's still refusing to look at her.

"Do you really think I'm better than him? I let him fall. His darkness…he's a part of me, Blair".

"_Chuck Bass_" she says, placing her hands on his face and slowly caressing his jaw, "you are not your father, it doesn't matter how much darkness there is in your heart. I know who you are, I know the man I married and I want every part of that man. You're an amazing person, Chuck. But you can only live with your demons by accepting them, otherwise they'll destroy you".

It's the unconditionally of their love, he thinks, the power of her acceptance, that lets him follow her towards the edge. They both look down to the ground, hand in hand, and the ghost of Bart Bass looks so pale in front of the strength of her serene smile.

* * *

She's the one who buys their _townhouse_. It's something she needs to do, because he's never had a real place to call home and that' what she wants to be: she wants to be his home.

So she surprises him, running on her high heels into his office one March morning, and he smirks at the view of her light purple silky dress, at the smell of _Chanel N°5_ she brings with her.

"Our days at the _Empire_ are over, Mrs. Bass" she declares, without leaving him the time to ask her why she's bringing a breeze of joyful life in his boring morning instead of working on the new Waldorf collection at her atelier or what she's talking about.

Blair keeps on smiling, handing him an heavy folder and, when he opens it, Chuck is completely stunned. His glance travels on the pictures of a wonderful townhouse, tastefully furnished and incredibly warm, and he can feel his eyes getting a little wet for the emotion when they fall on the signed contract.

And suddenly understands why she declined all of his suggestions about the perfect place to live for the last three months, why each of his ideas was always "_not enough classy_" or "_too ostentatious_", he finally understands why living with Nate didn't seem to bother her: she had a plan. Blair Waldorf has always a plan.  
"Balir, this is…"  
"Before you start saying that the husband should be the one to buy the house –I know you're thinking that, Bass – let me explain: I wanted this house to be the first place you can really call home and I wanted to be the person with the power to give you this gift".  
Chuck doesn't know what to say, because words wouldn't be enough to explain what he feels, so he just grabs her in his arms, he lifts her up he kisses her deeply, making her spin before placing her on his desk.  
"I was about to say that this is amazing, Blair" he says, while a bunch of papers and pencils fall on the ground, as he makes her lay on the wood. "You are amazing" he adds between a kiss on her neck and the other, her cheeks blushing when he starts to unbutton her dress  
"You can still be the man of the house and buy us an Hamptons residence, Bass. It's almost summer" she whispers, already out of breath.  
"It' already done, Mrs. Bass. You're not the only one who can make surprises".  
"You. Egocentric. _Basstard_" she articulates, and each word is a little moan between getting rid of his shirt and pulling him closer, to make him lay on her.  
"I'm Chuck Bass".  
He's smirking.

* * *

They rule New York from their penthouse, like to despotic monarchs. They lie and scheme and everybody fear their dominance and the cruelty they can show when they don't feel respected enough.

But that's from the outside.

Inside, they are a warm, happy family, surrounded by the company of few elected people, people who don't have to be afraid of their power. Inside there is trust, loyalty and commitment, inside they accept and love each other's imperfection.

Because that's what they are, incredibly imperfect people.

Sometimes they argue. She yells he's a self-centered, jealous, vain man who works too much, drinks too much, doesn't talk enough. He replies she's a bossy, controlling, incredibly vindictive woman who is always too moody and capricious. Sometimes they don't talk for a day, they swear they hate each other, they act like childish, spoiled kids. But it's just a game. At the end of each argument they are there, making love wherever they can, kissing deeply and never denying their promises to love each other and take care of each other.

* * *

It's the last day of their first year together when she waits for him in the bathroom, with a pregnancy test squeezed in her sweaty hands and her heart beating faster and faster in her throat.  
She is silent when he enters, slowly, somehow always worried about her.  
"What's wrong, Blair?" he asks her softly, too focused on her wet eyes to notice what she's holding.  
"Nothing". There's a tiny smile on her lips now and he's confused, but he keeps on caressing her shoulder, drawing imaginary little circles on her skin with his index finger.  
"Nothing is wrong, Chuck. I'm pregnant".  
They're both terrified. They're both damaged and full of flaws and insecurities. They both have parents issues and they both think they're not good enough to have a baby.  
But they're holding each other, both crying of joy, both sure that they'll feed the product of their union with all the love they can find. It's their promise for the future.

* * *

_"True perfection has to be imperfect._

_I know it may sound foolish,_

_but it's true." _***8**

* * *

**Notes:  
[1] **It's a quote from_ Anna Karenina_, a Russian novel written by Lev Tolstoy.  
**[2] **It' a Blair's quote from episode 2X08, "_Pret-A-Poor-J_".**  
[3] **This is a Chuck's quote from episode 2X07, _Chuck in real life_.**  
[4] **I'm sure everyone knows what _Mona Lisa_ is but, just in case, it's the portrait of a mysterious woman, by Leonardo Da Vinci. The woman in the painting is smiling enigmatically. It's on permanent display at the Louvre museum, in Paris. "_Smile like Mona Lisa_" is also a quote from, _Our Last Summer_, by Abba.**  
[5] **Anna and Vronskij are two of the main characters of "Anna Karenina", the over-quoted novel by Tolstoy, which takes place in Russia. They share a pretty tumultuous love. Also, in episode 3X13 (_The Hurt Locket_), Blair is at Chuck's place, waiting for him to play this role-play.  
**[6] **This is the _The Second Waltz_. watch?v=IoS1_CRS5fA**  
[7] **_Casquet_, as I say in the fanfiction, is a tango step. I bet everyone knows what it is but again, just in case, this is a _casquet_. watch?v=9DOfEc5lWRs  
**[8]** _Little By Little_, by Oasis


End file.
